


The Situation

by softestpunk



Series: (Witcher) Prompt Meme Fics [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic, this is really very short but idk what else to say about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 05:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16738174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: Prompt: “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”Regis walks in on a situation that is not what it first appears to be.





	The Situation

The scent of blood hit Regis the moment he set foot in the crypt, panic overwhelming his senses as he raced down, heart in his throat. 

No. 

No no no.

He knew that blood, and the other scent as well, and… 

His mind had barely registered the sight of Dettlaff pinning Geralt to the wall before his body was reacting, a feral growl ripping free of his throat as he leapt at Dettlaff, grief already threatening to overwhelm him.

They’d seemed to be getting along. Geralt had accepted Dettlaff’s actions as he had accepted Regis’ past, and perhaps they hadn’t been the very best of friends, but they hadn’t fought.

Until now.

Dettlaff crashed into the wall, obviously surprised by the force of the blow, and Regis knew his face had shifted, ears pointed, fangs bared, but as he put himself between Geralt and Dettlaff…

Dettlaff had not shifted. He was looking up at Regis with his perfectly human eyes, pale blue and piercing, confusion written all over his face and Geralt’s blood on his lips.

“Regis,” Geralt said softly from behind him. 

Regis paused.

He jumped when Geralt’s hand alighted on his shoulder, the adrenaline of an anticipated fight making his ears ring.

The scent of arousal hit him belatedly, buried under the blood that had made him panic.

Regis’ stomach dropped, new possibilities skittering across his mind. Blood. Arousal.

Dettlaff pinning Geralt to the wall.

Oh.

_ Oh _ .

Well, that was…

“I’m so sorry,” he said, rushing to Dettlaff to offer him a hand up even knowing he wouldn’t need it.

The scent of Geralt’s arousal clung to him, thick and fresh and without even the barest trace of fear. Regis barely suppressed a growl, all his protective instincts still on high alert.

With more than a little effort, he forced himself back to human form, stomach still twisting into knots.

He would be happy for his friends. He  _ would _ be.

Regis had known for a long time that he could not expect to have both of them. That he would need to  _ choose _ , sooner or later.

And he had hesitated over his impossible choice, and Geralt and Dettlaff had clearly… not wished to wait any longer.

He watched as Dettlaff licked the remainder of Geralt’s blood from his lips, aiming at subtle but only drawing the entirety of Regis’ attention to his mouth.

“He’ll be fine,” Geralt said. “I appreciate you defending me.”

Regis turned to meet Geralt’s eyes, hoping his own were sufficiently human not to frighten him away. “I’m interrupting,” he said. “I should go. I didn’t… realise…”

“Dettlaff was helping me clean a cut,” Geralt said.

“With his mouth,” Regis responded, wishing that for once in his life he could  _ shut up _ , get away, bring his feelings to heel before he ruined his relationship with the two people he cared about most in the world out of something so inconsequential as jealousy.

Geralt shrugged. “You weren’t here.”

Something about the way he said it almost implied that if he  _ had _ been, Dettlaff may well have been the one walking in on a surprising scene. Although, perhaps less surprising to Dettlaff than it had been to Regis.

That may also have been wishful thinking, a desperate need to believe that he had simply been too slow, and not that Geralt would always have been out of his reach in this way. 

“Regis,” Dettlaff murmured behind him, voice soft and low, his hand falling on Regis’ shoulder this time as Geralt’s had before. “I think I speak for both of us when I say you need not go,” he continued. “In fact… I believe it would be preferable if you stayed.”

Regis froze as Dettlaff’s lips made contact with his neck, unbearably intimate after everything that had occurred in the last few minutes. His reaction was immediate and visceral, stomach tightening with arousal instantly.

He had wanted this. He had wanted it for so  _ long _ .

“Geralt?” he asked softly, glancing up to meet the witcher’s eyes. 

Geralt, without a moment’s warning, pounced. His mouth crashed against Regis’, unmindful of his too-sharp fangs, the press of his body pinning Regis to the solid wall of Dettlaff’s chest behind him, the kiss searing its way down Regis’ throat and pooling in his heart, warmth blooming in the depths of his chest.

“Oh,” he said softly as Geralt paused, his eyes so close that Regis struggled to focus on them, the combined scent of two people he had wanted so desperately for so long making his head light.

“Stay,” Geralt murmured, so close that Regis could feel his breath ghosting over his lips.

And oh, how long Regis had wanted to hear that warm purr in Geralt’s voice, inviting him in.

“I think…” Regis began, looking between Geralt and Dettlaff and realising that he'd never been in a position he enjoyed more. “I think I'd like that.”

  
  



End file.
